Suddenly Single… Minded

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Check out: Poetry as a chick magnet

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April is actually the coolest not the cruelest month-

Get ready for April: National Poetry Month

The hot topic in the very, very, long line at State Bird Provisions was how perfectly seductive it is to hear a man recite a poem. Consensus was, “Oh, yeah!” Wordsworth said, “Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from a motion we collected in tranquility.” Voltaire called poetry, “Music of the soul”

Whatever You Call It – Why Wait Until April? Time for Rhyme

Whether you recite a poem, a haiku, a sonnet – whether it’s blank verse – or free verse, lyrical or satirical- women swoon over poetry. There’s something irresistible and alluring about having someone recite a poem to you.

Poems are meant to be slow and leisurely, read aloud and read more than once.

Now is the time – to pick up a book of poems, choose a poet – whether it’s by Neruda, Poe, DH Lawrence,  or W.H. Auden, or local poet laureate: Kay Ryan or T.S. Eliot Keats, or Billy Collins. Simply find a slim volume of poems and revel in the language.

Note:Poetic License- 100 Poems 100 Performers” the audio book – is romantic, breath-taking, and astounding. Check your library or local Indy Bookstore, for a copy.

Enroll in Poetry 101 today

Billy Collins, a highly esteemed favorite among English majors everywhere explains teaching poetry to students in his poem entitled, “Poetry 101”

-CoolSunflower
Here are the Top 10 Poems of the Day

1. Elizabeth Barrett Browning, “How Do I Love thee? Let me count the ways”

2. Robert Burns, scalding red-hot love poem: “My Red, Red, Rose”

3. Emily Dickinson “I Cannot Live with You”

4. Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18 “Shall I Compare You to a Summer’s Day?”

5. Margaret Atwood, “Variation on the Word Sleep“

6. Billy Collins “Litany”

7. Michael Ondaatje, “The CinnamonPeeler”

8. Samuel M Johnson, “Two Lovers Sat on a Park Bench” (see below)

9. Francis William Bourdillon, “The Night has a Thousand Eyes”

10.Henry Wadsworth Longfellow “The Day is Done”

Read them, recite them, revel in poetry.

“Poetry is the shadow cast by out streetlight imaginations.”

Lawrence Ferlinghetti

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Two Lovers Sat on a Park Bench  

by Samuel M Johnson

The day with its cares and perplexities is ended and the night is now upon us. The night should be a time of peace and tranquility, a time to relax and be calm. We have need of a soothing story to banish the disturbing thoughts of the day, to set at rest our troubled minds, and put at ease our ruffled spirits.

And what sort of story shall we hear? Ah, it will be a familiar story, a story that is so very, very old, and yet it is so new.

It is the old, old story of love.

Two lovers sat on a park bench, with their bodies touching each other, holding hands in the moonlight.

There was silence between them. So profound was their love for each other, they needed no words to express it. And so they sat in silence, on a park bench, with their bodies touching, holding hands in the moonlight.

Finally she spoke. “Do you love me, John?” she asked.

“You know I love you, darling,” he replied. “I love you more than tongue can tell. You are the light of my life, my sun, moon and stars. You are my everything. Without you I have no reason for being.”

Again there was silence as the two lovers sat on a park bench, their bodies touching, holding hands in the moonlight.

Once more she spoke. “How much do you love me, John?” she asked.

He answered: “How much do I love you? Count the stars in the sky. Measure the waters of the oceans with a teaspoon. Number the grains of sand on the seashore. Impossible, you say.

“Yes and it is just as impossible for me to say how much I love you.”

“My love for you is higher than the heavens, deeper than Hades, and broader than the earth. It has no limits, no bounds. Everything must have an ending except my love for you.”

There was more of silence as the two lovers sat on a park bench with their bodies touching, holding hands in the moonlight.

Once more her voice was heard. “Kiss me, John,” she implored.

And leaning over, he pressed his lips warmly to hers in fervent osculation.

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